


Adoption

by nonnymouse



Series: A Forever Home [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Butt Plugs, Catboys & Catgirls, Fingerfucking, Gags, M/M, Master/Slave, Public Humiliation, Public Nudity, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:09:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7450702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonnymouse/pseuds/nonnymouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: M/m. A world where catboys are slaves and catboy features usually manifest around puberty. On his eighteenth birthday or thereabouts, a guy wakes up to an unwelcome surprise.</p><p>At least the person who gets the new catboy is a (relatively) decent sort?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adoption

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt and fill posted [here](http://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/89727.html?thread=1100897663#cmt1100897663).
> 
> I've edited the fill and added more to the end.

On the morning of his eighteenth birthday, Avi woke up with a tail. As far as tails go, it was a nice one, covered in smoky gray fur that was as soft as a cloud.  Avi knew how soft it was because his first instinct had been to grab and pull it, ready for it to fall off and reveal itself as a nasty prank.

He yelped in pain, discovering quite efficiently that he was very sensitive where the tail met the lowest dip of his spine.

"Are you all right, sweetie?" his mom called.

Avi's gaze flew to his door, which was thankfully locked.  "Just stepped on something, mom!" he yelled back.

"Clean your room!"

Clothes flew out of the closet and landed on the floor as he dug for something that could contain the tail.  He couldn't let his mom see it.  His dad, maybe, but his mom didn't believe in abolition.  She could rant for hours about "those people" as she called them, how terrible it was that they stole catboys from their safe, loving homes that gave them the stability they needed.  Then she'd start reminiscing about her mother's old catboy, who she'd give a can of wet food every day when she got home from school.

An old pair of cargos and a flannel shirt tied around his waist would have to do.  Maybe he could go shopping after work.  He'd never noticed how much all of his pants sagged before. He'd need to buy hats too, to cover up the ears when they started to grow in.

* * *

As the bus filled with people, Avi got twitchier and twitchier until the inevitable happened: a man sat next to him. Avi had turned so that his back was pressed against the bus and his knees faced the aisle, but he was forced to shift and face the front due to the sprawl of the man's legs.  Even after he moved, their legs were pressed together and he just knew the man could feel him shaking.

He froze when the man looked down at him.  At least that stopped the infernal shaking.

The man's gaze ran all the way down his body before he ever looked up at Avi's face.  He squinted, then leaned into Avi's face.

"Sir?" Avi asked, trying not to breathe because the man was so close and it seemed rude to breathe in someone's face.

A hand touched his hair, and Avi flinched away.  When his eyes snapped open, the man was putting his hand back down and smirking in a way that made Avi nervous all over again, a strange sense of dread pooling in his belly.

The man leaned in, closing the scarce inch between their faces, and whispered, "You've got ears, boy.  Fluffy gray ears beneath that pretty blond hair."

Avi shook his head.  "No, no—"  They couldn't be growing already.  He'd only gotten a tail this morning.

"It's okay, boy.  I'm not gonna turn you in.  Not if you play nice.  Crowded bus like this, no one will notice if you make any noise."

Avi considered crying out for help, considered what it would mean for that split second, and then nodded.

The man lifted his hand again, holding it in front of Avi's mouth.  "Get my fingers wet, kitty."

A quick glance showed that the man's earlier assessment was right.  No one was watching them.  No one cared.  Avi leaned forward and took three of the man's fingers into his mouth, closing his eyes to block out his own knowledge of what was happening.  The fingers lay heavy on his tongue, and the man tasted of salt and something unpleasantly sour.

After an eternity, the fingers pulled out of his mouth.  Then all too soon the man stuck his hand down the back of Avi's worn, loose cargos.

Avi hadn't worn underwear, so there was no second barrier.  There was just him, and the man had no trouble finding his asshole.   He roughly shoved one finger inside.  His only consideration was to press a kiss to Avi's mouth and swallow his pained gasp.

The man kept kissing Avi as he shoved a second finger in, Avi's leftover saliva doing little to ease their passage.  The man didn't care.  In fact, Avi suspected he liked the way Avi tried to twitch away, the way his face contorted as he tried not to make any noise and cause a scene.

The man's tongue invaded his mouth, curling along his palate in a surprisingly sensual caress.  Avi responded to the deepening of the kiss, twining his own tongue with the man's.  The man's lips were soft against his, a startling contrast to the harsh way his fingers plundered Avi's ass.

The man's head fell to Avi's shoulder, and he kissed there, sucking Avi's skin into his mouth as he shuddered against him.

"Not bad, slut kitty.  C'mon, this is my stop."

"I'm not—"  
  
"I said c'mon," the man repeated, his tone brooking no reply.

Avi nodded in resignation, keeping his face turned toward the dirty bus floor to hide a few scared sniffles.  He was eighteen, not a child!  He could deal with this man and no one would ever know.

He bumped into the man, having been lost in his thoughts and missing that the man had stopped in front of the driver.

"Found this uncollared catboy," he said, jerking a thumb back at Avi, who tried to back away but found himself pinned right behind the man by the mere existence of the crowd on the bus.  "Can you call an agent for me and have 'em meet us at this stop?"

The bus driver nodded.  "No problem.  Standard procedure," he said.  He looked over to Avi.  "Strip," he said, clearly bored out of his mind.  Avi's impending humiliation obviously meant nothing to him other than a slight delay in the bus schedule.

"Ow!" Avi exclaimed when the man pinched him, sharp and vicious, above his elbow.

"Stop lollygagging.  You heard the man."

"Slaves must be naked unless your master gives you clothes," the bus driver said.  "Standard procedure."

Avi obeyed, trying to keep his movements mechanical.  He couldn't ignore the eyes of the crowd.  He couldn't let them see how upset and scared he was.  He didn't want to give them a story for their coworkers, for their families, for small talk with the cashier.

He folded his shirt and flannel and cargos neatly, not sure what else to do with them.  His sandals he just kicked off.

"I'll keep those," the man said, grabbing the sandals.  "Leave the clothes.  Someone will take them."

Quietly, Avi obeyed and then followed the man off the bus.  He couldn't even pretend to keep his dignity, because the instant a passenger's hand had darted out to grab his tee shirt he'd burst into giant, wailing sobs.

* * *

By the time Slave Control arrived, Avi had a sock shoved in his mouth.  The man had quickly gotten tired of his crying.  Now, his mouth felt like a desert and tasted worse.

"Stand up," the agent ordered, sounding nearly as bored as the bus driver.

He walked around Avi, and ran a finger over his swollen asshole.

"Not a virgin," he said, ticking off something on a chart.

Avi tried to protest, but the sock garbled anything he might say.

The man stuck his clipboard into his van, and returned with three items: a butt plug, a gag, a collar, and a pair of cuffs.

The collar came first.  The man whipped it on, then asked, "That comfortable?"

Avi nodded, and the man tightened it another notch before buckling it.  The collar pressed tight against Avi's throat, making him feel as if he were choking every time he breathed.

Then came the cuffs, attaching each of his hands to a ring on front of the collar with a short chain.  The gag was third, a cylinder of sweaty plastic shoved between his teeth scarce seconds after the sock was removed.  Avi choked for a second before figuring out where to place his tongue.

But all three of those were better than the butt plug, which was thrust into him without so much as a by your leave. Avi staggered forward, slipping off the curb and slamming his face into the warm metal of the van.

"Don't damage the merchandise!" the agent yelled, slapping his ass.  "Stupid fucker.  This is why you should've gone to training as soon as you started to show at puberty."

"I didn't," Avi said, even though he knew it was pointless to try to speak through the gag.

"Get in the van," the agent said, pointing at the opened back doors.

It was awkward, clambering up with his hands fastened to his neck.  He managed to get inside eventually and lay on the floor, trying to get his breath back past the collar.

"Into the cage," the agent's exasperated voice came.

Avi crawled forward into a metal cage, the mesh bottom digging into the flesh of his legs, particularly his knees.  But he didn't have enough room to change positions without crawling out, and the agent closed and locked the door.

* * *

Avi's mom shook him.  He'd graduated; why was she waking him up?  He groaned and opened his eyes, freezing as he spotted the agent shaking him.

"Get on out of the cage and follow me."

Meekly, Avi obeyed.  He'd seen the town's Slave Control Center before, and even toured it back in junior high.  It looked more sinister, now.  The barred windows seemed to jeer at him.

"Let's get you processed," the agent said, grabbing his elbow to steer him toward a window, behind which sat another bored agent.

Avi tuned out, because it seemed his input wasn't needed on his own enslavement.  Periodically the agent prodded him or measured something, but he didn't talk to Avi or explain any of what was happening.

Avi could feel the shakes coming back as the agent started to lead him down a hallway.

The first non-agent he'd seen since he'd woken up was striding down the hall toward them.  He was a handsome man, maybe early forties.  His hair was neatly slicked back and his suit even more neatly tailored.

"Mayor Hawthorn," the agent greeted him.  "How are you, today?"

Hawthorn's eyes flicked toward Avi.

"Go stand over there and face the wall," the agent told Avi, gesturing vaguely at a point a few feet down the hall.

Avi shuffled over and stared at the plain stucco, letting their conversation wash over him without taking it in.  Numbness was settling in.

"I had them put Josh down," Hawthorn said, sorrow making his voice thick.  "He got sick, and the doctors told me the treatment was going to cause a lot of pain and he might not even make it afterward.  I just couldn't put him through that, y'know?  He was such a sweet boy and I couldn't make him go through all that pain when it might not even work.  I cared too much about him for that."

"That's terrible," the agent said.  "I'm sorry for your loss, sir."  He hesitated.  "This catboy I'm escorting is new.  Untrained.  But he's been remarkably agreeable and takes orders well.  I think he'd do well under a fair but firm hand like yours.  Some of the methods I've seen, well, they'd ruin his natural eagerness to please and turn it into cringing submission."

Hawthorn nodded.  His constituents were free to treat their slaves as they pleased, as was their lawful right, and he would support that with all his power.  But some of them couldn't even figure out how to care for a goldfish.  A slave was expensive enough that most people thought twice about the purchase after accidentally breaking one and having to get rid of it because of their own carelessness.

Seeing that Hawthorn was hooked, the agent added, "He's the prettiest one I've picked up in a few months, too.  Best of all, he's already eighteen, so you don't have to wait to make full use of him."

With a sharp sound of amusement, Hawthorn replied, "You know me too well.  But you're right.  A new slave is exactly what I need to get over Joshie.  He'd want his place and toys going to someone who can make me happy." A pause. "I'll call him Josh II."

"A good name," the agent said.  "Give me a second to grab Josh II and we'll get the paperwork done.  There will be the standard adoption fee, of course."

"Of course," Hawthorn replied.  "Thanks, pal.  You've made my whole day better."

* * *

Avi started to come back to himself as gentle hands removed the gag invading his mouth. He gratefully gasped for fresh air and swallowed repeatedly to try to get his saliva under control. It also meant he was free to cry out when the butt plug was harshly ripped from him, although his cry choked off rather raggedly due to the collar still constricting his throat. He staggered, and found himself caught by large hands around his middle.

He looked up into the face of the handsome man, Mayor Hawthorn, the agent had left him to talk to. "Thanks," he whispered, with a shy smile. Well, he meant to whisper, but his voice came out as a croak.

Hawthorn smiled back at him as his hands slid down to cup Avi's butt. He squeezed, causing Avi to let out a small gasp of indignant surprise.

"He is a pretty one," Hawthorn said. "You didn't lie there. The gray eyes with the blue fur is a lovely combination, and the ash blond hair matches well. He could probably be used as a show cat with that coloring." His gaze, however, turned disapproving at the large plug that had been removed from Avi. "I know you said he was untrained, but I'm looking for a nice, sweet boy. You aren't trying to sell me some loose slut on a markup, are you?"

The agent shrugged. "He was clearly used when I picked him up, all swollen and open."

As the agent spoke, Avi swallowed again and coughed a few times to clear his throat before he felt confident to speak up for himself. He pleaded directly with Hawthorn, since the man seemed kinder than the agent. "I didn't— I'm not— The man said he wouldn't turn me in if I let him finger me! I've never done anything to anyone and I just," Avi burst into tears, feeling the shame of leaving that bus with all those eyes on him again, "I just want to go home."

Avi missed the avarice in the man's eyes as he folded him into his arms. "Don't worry, Josh, I'll take you home."

"My name isn't Josh," he mumbled into the man's shoulder.

"Shh, shh," the man soothed him, rubbing his hair and stroking his ears comfortingly. "When I want you to speak, I'll tell you."

Still holding Avi to him with one arm, he awkwardly undid the buckle on the collar and passed it to the agent. "I'll get him a real one at the vet's," he told the agent. But Avi was paying more attention to the fact that for the first time in hours he could fully breathe. He took slow, deep breaths, which had the added benefit of calming him down.

Hawthorn sat down and his wandering hands cajoled Avi into sitting in his lap, still curled up in his arms. He stayed there, quiet, as Hawthorn filled out a seemingly endless stream of papers. He wanted to protest more, but it was hard to give up the first gentle touch he'd received since he'd stupidly gotten onto that bus. To be honest, he doubted he could get very far if he tried to run in the middle of a Slave Control Center. But Hawthorn seemed reasonable, and maybe he could plead with him alone.

Finally it was done, and the agent passed Hawthorn a certificate of adoption.

"Congratulations on your purchase, sir," he said. He turned to Avi, truly acknowledging him for the first time. "You're a lucky one, Josh II, to get a private sale to such a good master. I'd thank that man on the bus if I were you, because he caught you just in time to ensure such a fortuitous coincidence."

Hawthorn pressed a gentle kiss above Avi's human ear in clear agreement.


End file.
